


Second Chances

by Bradley21



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I needed more so I wrote more, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reference to some violence, Reincarnation, Talks of sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bradley21/pseuds/Bradley21
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance.





	1. Watching the past

**Author's Note:**

> This was floating around for a while and I finally convinced my muse to let me write it. It just seemed so unfair that it all ended before he even had a chance to...live. So, I decided to give him another chance. First time posting here, not beta'd though I hope to change that for later chapters. I don't have the best memory at the best of times, so if something is wrong its more than likely my fault. I tried to look up what I thought wasn't right, but this is mostly for your and my enjoyment. So...enjoy!
> 
> **** Shows the beginning and ending of a memory ****

Like a pebble dropped into a pond, the surface rippled gently, the dark surface becoming slowly brighter as images began to form. Dark eyes watch the forming images silently.

****As one, the gathered crowd turned to look at the large doors of the throne room opening wide to let the light from outside spill in. The light that enters, passes over large cracks in the walls and ceiling, the piles of stone, the crumbled majestic columns. But there is room to stand, to wait and honor. Two lines of men and women, dressed in clothing that ranges from hunters and farmers to tipsters and many others that had come to the reclaimed city to pay respects to the final of the fallen. A handful file slowly into the throne room, faces grim and solemn in a duty they had volunteered for and been chosen for out of a surprising number. The silent procession stops at the edge of the cracked and broken steps, all faces turning to look up at the broken throne. 

One man steps forward, raising a haunted gaze slowly up the steps to the throne. His jaw tight, fists clenching momentarily at this side, he slowly moves up the stairs. Black lines of a complex tatoo flowing down his arms and back stand out in the newly welcomed light from the sky, Until he stands before that broken throne, and what is left of of a great man. Leaning down, he wraps a large hand around the hilt of the sword embedded into the middle of the slumped body, hesitating briefly as he closes his eyes for a long moment. Taking a deep breath, he pulls the sword out in one smooth movement, barely blinking when it vanishes in a faint sprinkle of blue light. There are sounds behind him though, murmurs of surprise; that hadn’t been expected. Not with the bloodline gone that had held and protected that magic.

Turning back to the slumped body, he slowly leans down, lifting what was left of his brother...his friend...his king, into his arms. He turns back to the waiting crowd, walking down the steps to the soft sounds of weeping as he moves to the waiting travois. On either side, the men and women that had come to bear the dead king from his last resting place stand at attention with hands fisted on their hearts in respect. Going down to one knee, he lays the body of the King onto the waiting travois and lingers, staring at a face that was finally quiet and peaceful, not ravaged with stress or grief, or even the myriad of troubles that he had shouldered throughout his life. He lays a hand over the man’s forehead, bowing his head in a final goodbye to the last King of Lucis. Stepping around the travois, he takes up a position at the front of the line, his final act as the Shield of the King, as he leads the silent procession from the destroyed remains of the throne room and into the light of day beyond. The light, that the King had died to bring them.****

Looking up from the rippling waters, he glances over to where a young woman kneels in a flower garden with nearly every color ever known. With a faint smile, he rises and walks over to stroke fingers through the short blond hair. Sitting back on her heels, she looks up at him, reaching up to curl her fingers through his before turning back to her flowers, her soft voice curling through the air to comfort the tender blooms. Dropping his hand back to his side, he walks slowly along the path through the colorful swaying plants, his gaze looking into the distance as he remembers still other images that the waters had shown to his questioning gaze.

****There wasn’t a dry eye in the large crowd that had gathered around the gleaming stones of the new tomb. The sounds of weeping were interspersed with whispers of remembering. They had gathered to say goodbye to a King most of them had barely gotten to know. Sharing stories of a group of hunters that had pushed back the demon threat, that had stepped forward to help no matter the request, the quiet one of the group that had been protected by the others but had never not been at the front to fight alongside everyone else. Silence spread slowly through the gathering as all eyes turned toward the head of the path leading down to the tomb. The beat of drums fills the air, a single horn playing between the rumbling pulse to send a sad dirge on the wind. Dressed in the formal garb of the Crowns Guard, two lines of a dozen men and women walk steadily down the path. In the middle of the lines, a white beir is born by four of the procession, carrying the still form of the last King on their shoulders. He had been dressed in the formal and commanding robes and uniform made just for the King of kings. With his hands crossed over his chest and curled around his favorite weapon. Sobs and weeping followed each step of the procession as they bore the dead king to his final resting place.

At the front of the procession walked three men dressed in the uniform of the Kings Guard, those chosen to stand beside the King in the highest of trusted positions. They lead the way to the tomb, their faces stoic and as neutral as possible on such a day as they walk in front of their lost brother. The Shield, the Sword and the Mirror. And now they led the way to the last of the many tombs that they had visited during the months of travel. A tomb that their friend wouldn’t be leaving. Dressed in the same formal uniform as the two at his side, the blond exhales a shaking breath, struggling to keep in step with the others. A hand brushes his elbow in support and he glances at the bespeckled man beside him walking carefully with a cane. On the far side, the large form of their third stares straight ahead, his movements precise and trained, though his gaze doesn’t seem to be seeing where they are going.

The procession stops in front of the tomb, leaving the three in front to lead the beir carriers into the large structure that had been built for just one purpose. Standing off to the side, they watch silently as the body of their friend is placed into the prepared stone coffin with coordinated movements. One of the last of those close to the line of Kings and who had survived too many of his royal companions, the one known as the Immortal steps forward, reaching up to pull closed the lid of the resting place of the last of the Kings. Bowing his head, saying goodbye to another friend. ****


	2. Another life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis gets his second chance.

With a sigh, Noctis turned away from watching the flashes of energy dancing around the darkness of the void that was his new home. Within two steps, the area around him changed to that of a large palace. But he didn’t bother to look around the now familiar quick dream like changes of the scenery, heading toward the hallways beyond, searching the rooms as he passed them until he found what he was looking for. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned a shoulder against the door, watching his father holding the slender form of his mother close as they talked quietly. After a moment, Regis looked up to smile at his son and released his wife. As she passed, she brushed his cheek gently, then headed out of the room to let them talk. Regis watched her leave with a lingering gaze until she vanished from sight, then turned back to his son with a quirked brow in silent question.

“Ah, my son. What brings you? I thought I saw Luna over in her garden.”

Noctis nodded as he stepped into the room, “She’s there. The syllablossoms are looking really good.”

Regis nodded, leaning a hip against the large desk in the middle of the room, a room he had spent a lot of time in during his reign. “If she’s in the garden...why are you here?”

Noctis doesn’t answer right away, turning to look around the room. Finally, he sighs and rubs a palm against the side of his neck, then says, “Dad...Why am I here?”

Tilting his head slightly, Regis says, “You are here, because you earned being here, my son. Just like myself, and your grandfather and ancestors. To rest, to be at peace.” His lips twitch a bit at his own phrasing.

Noctis studies one of the paintings on the wall, then slides a glance toward his father, “To be bored?” At this his father chuckled and shrugged. “Well, maybe now and then. There are many things that you can do you know. Anywhere you wanted to travel, you can go there.”

His son is silent though, his gaze going back to the painting that had been done in loving detail of the city of his birth, the citadel rising elegantly in the background like a protective series of towers. “What will happen, over there, now? With the crystal and the magic. Is it gone?”

Regis shook his head, “No, not gone. Not completely. It will never reach what it was when your grandfather was on the throne, or even when I was. I don’t think what you were able to pull together even gets to count.” Noctis gives a faint smile at that, turning to drop into a nearby chair. “But, it’s not gone. The crystal is still there, it’s just...smaller? Less? Well, it doesn’t have to do as much anymore. But the crystal is a part of the world, I think even if it was just slivers, it would still exist somewhere.”

Noctis looks up to meet his father’s gaze, his own slightly troubled. “Who protects it now then?”

Regis smirks at his son. “The next generation will take care of that Noct, no worries.” His statement is met only with a blank stare from his son. Noctis’ own words are slow when he says, “What next generation? You know I didn’t have any kids, right? I didn’t exactly have...time for that.”

Brow’s furrowed, his father glances over at him, “I know you weren’t very social, but you did get out.”

Noctis shakes his head, “Arcades. Movies. A club now and then. Then we were on the road...no women. After that...I kinda slept for ten years...then I died.”

His father pauses, “Surely, someone…”

Noctis can only stare at his father a moment, “Dad, I didn’t have sex with any women. I have no kids running around over there.”

There is another pause, then Regis clears his throat. “I know a female was sent to you after your sixteenth birthday.” He stops at his son’s incredulous stare. “Dad, you did not just say you sent a woman to have sex with me.”

Rubbing at his forehead, Noctis slumps back into his chair. “You know what? We aren’t going there. We are not having the sex talk again...I still have the scars from the first time.” Blithely ignoring the scowl his father sends in his direction, he continues. “So, unless I have any half brothers or sister running around out there somewhere…?”

His father’s scowl deepens, “I was very loyal to your mother, before and after her death. You are my only child, Noctis.”

Laying his chin on one palm, elbow braced on the arm of the chair, Noctis quirks a brow at his father. “Okay, back to the beginning then...there are no others. Our line, died when I did.”

Regis starts to speak, pauses, frowns as he considers, then sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck for a moment, “I guess...so. I’m sure they’ll figure out something, my son.”

Noctis rises from the chair, hands tugging his shirt down before speaking slowly, “What if they don’t? What happens to our people, to the land, to the magic?” His father is silent though, not having any answers for his son, but finally saying, “There’s nothing we can do, Noct. It’s out of our hands now.”

Pacing over to the painting of the city, Noctis let’s the silence draw out for several long moments, then lowers his head before turning to look at his father once more. “What if I went back?”

A blink of surprise, then Regis returns his son’s stare. “...Go back? Noct, you died. And why would you want to go back? You did more than enough for them, enough for several lifetimes.” He pauses when Noctis only looks at him, then says softly, “Dad, I didn’t do anything. I trained, I fought, I died. I didn’t get to marry Luna, or have kids, or even rule. And why couldn’t I? The Gods let Ardyn live for over 2,000 years. They created the magic and put it into our family. They did a lot of impossibles, so why can’t they give me my life back?”

Regis can only close his eyes at the faint sound of grief in his only child’s voice near the end of his questions. Then slowly shakes his head, “Noct...I’m sorry...I…” He trails off as Noctis drops his head to stare at the floor, shoulders slumping. He starts to say something, to try and come up with anything at all that would take that dejected disappointed look from his child’s expression. But the soft voice that speaks from the doorway brings both their heads around in surprise.

The woman, standing tall with a black and silver dress wrapped carefully around her body, steps into the room to join them. Both Regis and Noctis bow at her presence, Noctis speaking up, “Gentiana...I mean, Shiva...umm…”

She laughs softly, waving aside his stumbling words with a soft smile. “Call me what you are used to. But don’t worry, you may not need to try for long.” At their confused looks, she smiles again, clasping her hands in front of her body, “We heard your questions Noctis, and so did others. It is also not the first time those questions have been asked, so there has already been some...discussion.”

Both men are silent, brows furrowed as they listen to the Astral. She smiles softly again, and continues, “You were also correct, Noctis. The sacrifice you offered, the price that you paid, not not equal what was asked of you. But so much more. So I bring to you an offer in return, a second chance.”

Noctis starts, staring at the Astral he had known nearly his entire life. “What do you mean?”

With a murmur, she nods to the painting, then looks back at him, “I offer you a choice, but not one you have to make now. First, you need to know that there will have to be a price for this as well.” She continues before either man can form a protest, “Your body suffered too much damage from all of the magic that was absorbed. The physical wounds can be healed, but the wounds on your mind and your spirit are too great to, wipe away. If you return to the mortal realm, your memories will be taken from you. To give you time to heal and step back into a life. This is where your choice will come though. If you choose to seek a path back to being King, your memories will slowly return and guide you as your body and mind are able to handle them. If you choose not to return to being King though, your memories will not return and you can pick up a life away from the burdens you carried before. You can find a wife and have children, and one day, one of your progeny, will find their way back to the crystal.”

With that heavy information, she goes silent once more, letting the two men in front of her absorb her words. Noctis can only stare at her, and then at his father. Regis smiles softly, raising a hand to grip his son’s shoulder, supporting him quietly at his side.

Noctis turns back to the ethereal woman, saying hesitantly, “I can go back, back to my body. I just have to...heal. Then I can find my friends, I can go do what I was suppose to do? Or, I can pick up the life of what, a rancher?”

She smiles, a bit of delight in the expression now, “If that is truly what you desire, then yes, you can choose to do that.”

Noctis pauses, then stares up at his father, “Dad…” Regis only shakes his head, drawing his only child into his arms in a hard embrace, whispering, “I trust you.” Stepping back, Noctis searches his father’s gaze, then nods and turns, “I have to talk to…” His words stop when Luna steps out from behind the woman and walks toward him and into his arms. He hugs her to his chest, murmuring, “You heard?”

Luna’s own voice is soft as she rests her cheek on his chest. “I was one of the ones asking. You deserve this Noct.” She draws back as he frowns down at her, “Luna, you could go back too…” She’s already shaking her head, resting one palm on his cheek fondly. “No, Noct. I don’t want to go back...there are no nightmares here, no violence, no sickness. I just want to rest. It’s not your time to do that yet though, there is still so much you could do. Whatever choice you make, know that I’m happy for you, and I will always love you. I want you to find a woman to love, and have children, and be happy. I’ll be here waiting when you return.”

Noctis closes his eyes, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. Taking a deep breath, he nods and steps back. A last look at her, and then his father, and he turns back to the Astral. “I want to go back.”

She smiles.

The world around him suddenly fades away, a sensation of falling taking over his senses until he wants to scream. Pressure builds in his mind, in his body, in parts of his being he hadn’t even known existed. Building until he thought, like the day he unleashed the magic, it would explode and leave him in pieces. 

He suddenly slams backwards into something, searing pain slicing into his chest as his head throbs. The couple long agonizing seconds that he is able to register any sane thought, was the knowledge that it hurt to breath, it hurt to think, and there was a rock digging into his ass. Before blackness and pain swamped over his senses and dragged him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and adored!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments adored and welcomed!


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